The House at the End of Hope Street - By Menna van Praag Page 0,43

he turns to serve another customer.

Carmen swallows a mouthful of wine and smiles. “That’s my boss. He’s very cute, right?” she whispers into Alba’s ear. Alba shivers slightly at the rush of Carmen’s warm, boozy breath on her skin. Suddenly the room feels like a sauna. Her palms are slippery with sweat and she feels beads of condensation on her upper lip.

“The singer must be out soon,” Carmen says, “she’s late but not long now.”

Alba follows Carmen’s gaze, preparing words to explain she’s not ready for adventures involving bars and men who look like film stars. She is unwilling and unprepared. It is then that she sees them, at a table near the far end of the stage, their faces barely visible in the flickering candlelight. Dr. Skinner and a beautiful young student lean together, deep in conversation. A punch of pain winds Alba, she clutches the edge of the marble counter to stop herself from falling off the stool.

Carmen follows Alba’s gaze. “Are you okay?”

Alba shakes her head. She opens her mouth but no words come out.

Carmen turns to her, now rather worried. “What’s wrong?”

Alba shakes her head again. When Carmen reaches out and rests her long, delicate fingers gently on her new friend’s arm, Alba starts as violently as if Carmen’s bright red nails had just electrocuted her.

“You are sick?” Carmen asks, quickly withdrawing the offending hand.

“I—” Alba finds her voice in a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.”

“But why? What’s happening, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“No, you must not . . .” But while the rest of the sentence is still in Carmen’s throat, Alba slips off her stool, throws one last withering glance in the direction of Dr. Skinner and the student and hurries, with as much dignity and finesse as she can muster, toward the exit.

Outside, Alba can’t catch her breath. At the end of the street she stops running and leans against a wall, gasping until she thinks she’ll faint. A few people stare as they walk past and one asks if she needs help. Her lungs on the edge of explosion and her heart beating sixty times a second, Alba shakes her head and stumbles away, utterly mortified. As she makes her way back to Hope Street, she curses the fact that she let Carmen drag her along to the bar. She was just starting to recover from the whole Dr. Skinner debacle, her memories were fading, the sharpness of her pain softening. And now she has to start forgetting all over again.

—

Now alone with her wine, Carmen glances around the bar, wondering why Alba ran away. Between sips, she sneaks glances at Blake. If she hadn’t entirely sworn off men she’d gratefully succumb to his advances. But she has to be strong, no matter how stunning and seductive he is. Swiveling around on her stool, she looks at the empty stage, biting her lip. Carmen takes another sip of wine. It mixes with the taste of blood in her mouth.

Chapter Eleven

Back at Hope Street, Alba still can’t believe it. The first time she allows herself to be taken out, to go somewhere public, other than a library, something horrible has to happen. A dreadful coincidence, a frightful shock that she doesn’t deserve. This, she thinks, is why it’s best to stay indoors. There they were, in that silly posh bar—Dr. Skinner with another girl, another student. The former object of her adoration with her replacement: next year’s Alba, who has already got farther than she ever did: being taken to a public place, a social event. A month ago this was the holy grail to Alba, more important even than a kiss. She hadn’t rated physical intimacy high on the list of what she’d wanted with Dr. Skinner, having no experience of it; the practicalities scared her a little.

Only once did Alba step outside King’s College with her teacher. Dr. Skinner had invited her to attend a two-day conference in London. They would go up on the train in the morning, stay overnight in a hotel, then return the following evening. Dr. Skinner would be presenting a paper on the first day and Alba would act as a sounding board and general assistant.

They set out for London very early, sitting side by side on the train, and all Alba could think about was the closeness. She couldn’t focus on a single word of the speech Dr. Skinner was reading aloud, though the colors exploded around them like a fireworks